Night 1

TL;DR: my partner is amazingly patient and I'm starting to trust and believe in myself and my ability to cope. So my partner has helped me put this all into perspective; my chances of getting rabies from a domestic dog lick on minor cuts is effectively 1 in tens of millions or infinitesimally low (in my situation). So my "crucial next step" - as my new archnemesis AI loves to say (which is a whole other post) - is...... to accept it. I know, I know, crazy! I have to accept that there is the teeny tiniest chance that I might have gotten rabies and that is so hard to do. It (my OCD) is trying so darn hard to take back control of the wheel to remind me of things I "forgot" or "misremembered" to "protect" myself. But I need to trust myself and my memory. The false memories and created plot points are endemic in my mind, I know what happened yet I don't believe it. But I have never once failed myself to the point of putting myself in harms way (e.g., I think I would be able to feel the difference between a bat literally landing on me and biting vs a small pinprick probably from leg hairs getting caught in my pants). I kept repeating to my self during this last week that I can't cope. I can't cope with that infinitesimally small chance of getting rabies because I KNOW I'll be that person that gets it. I'll be that insanely unlikely statistic. And you know what, my partner has helped me see that although the chance is so small it's negligible, I might. I might be the most unlucky person in the world (probably in human existence with these figures tbh) and I might get it, but I did everything (and more, he would argue and I would disagree) a rational, reasonable person would do in the same situation. I spent all day pleading and convincing him to let me call a doctor (something he was not physically stopping me from doing, I'm a grown adult, I literally could've done it anytime) even though I'd already spoken to a nurse. But deep down I knew it wouldn't help and that I didn't really need it. When he finally relented, I didn't feel relief, I felt wrong. I didn't jump at the chance, in fact, I didn't have the same urge to call one as before but my fear was that I would go back home to my country without seeing a doctor (who I was convinced would examine my barely injured hands and rush me to the hospital) and I would lose the opportunity to get the post rabies shots and I would die. I even started blaming him: "I'm mad at YOU because YOU didn't let me wash my hands afterwards (again, I'm a grown adult...)" and "YOU told me I shouldn't ask what the vaccination status of the dog was" and, my personal favourite, "if I die, I'm blaming you for convincing me not to do everything I possibly can to confirm I don't have rabies" (although more jokingly but with a tinge of panic in the moment). OCD fights and fights and tells you that even with all these ridiculous odds, you are 100% going to have or do whatever it is you are terrified of. I just need to start rationalising and living with that risk. That's what a part of life is, accepting risks. We can never be certain of anything (except that all dogs are amazing and I've spent the last few weeks being absolutely, devastatingly terrified of them...) and we can never prevent all risks. So I choose to live. I choose to live with the risks (you know in a normal, generally safe manner) and stop letting fear dictate my life. It's no life to be afraid of everything. And as my previous psychologist once told me (creative license used to make it more dramatic, of course): "Think back on your life: when have you genuinely ever not been able to cope with something? You have always come through it". So what makes me think I can't do it again? n.b. even writing this post, my brain was firing what if's at me regarding my own actions (e.g. not washing my hands for 15 minutes as recommended) but it doesn't remove the ridiculously low likelihood of the adorable doggo having rabies in the first place.